mini nanowrimo #14 (motorcycle vagabond p6, 163 words)
Prompt: image
Title: Motorcycle Vagabond (Small asylum)
Rating: PG13
Note: For those new to the list, this is original fiction... Still working non-linearly, though I'm starting to plot the overall story (finally!). Who'd have pegged me for wanting to write romance? ... Ok, looking at the recent trend I guess it's kind of obvious. Check here for more MV if you're interested... Comments and criticisms are love. (Not that there's much to sink your teeth into this time.)
Good ruins are hard to come by in North America. They're few and far between and mostly they're being renovated or considered private property. Not that that's ever stopped her.
This place was some kind of hospital, once upon a time, built in the days when Greece and Rome were once again in vogue. It's condemned, now, with parts of the facade crumbling and some of its worn columns cracked and littering the ground. God alone knows what the inside is like, decrepit or worse. She's curious, but she isn't an idiot.
She finds a spot that all but has her name on it, a niche that looks like it was meant maybe for a statue or a well appointed piece of shrubbery. Curling into the cold stone, she stares out at the tree line a ways past the safety fence.
The place isn't nearly as beautiful or haunting as White Sands. But damn if it doesn't come close.
Title: Motorcycle Vagabond (Small asylum)
Rating: PG13
Note: For those new to the list, this is original fiction... Still working non-linearly, though I'm starting to plot the overall story (finally!). Who'd have pegged me for wanting to write romance? ... Ok, looking at the recent trend I guess it's kind of obvious. Check here for more MV if you're interested... Comments and criticisms are love. (Not that there's much to sink your teeth into this time.)
Good ruins are hard to come by in North America. They're few and far between and mostly they're being renovated or considered private property. Not that that's ever stopped her.
This place was some kind of hospital, once upon a time, built in the days when Greece and Rome were once again in vogue. It's condemned, now, with parts of the facade crumbling and some of its worn columns cracked and littering the ground. God alone knows what the inside is like, decrepit or worse. She's curious, but she isn't an idiot.
She finds a spot that all but has her name on it, a niche that looks like it was meant maybe for a statue or a well appointed piece of shrubbery. Curling into the cold stone, she stares out at the tree line a ways past the safety fence.
The place isn't nearly as beautiful or haunting as White Sands. But damn if it doesn't come close.